


requiem

by beastofthesky



Series: picking up the pieces [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Last Day On Earth, M/M, Omnic Crisis, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-09-20 10:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9486689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastofthesky/pseuds/beastofthesky
Summary: They don't know it, yet, but this is a conversation that will stick with them for decades. They don't know it, yet, but they'll survive; they have to. They always do.





	1. i. this is not the end

**Author's Note:**

> direct follow-up to [radiance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8655343), and not really as top-tier angsty as the title and summary make it out to be. 
> 
> one more work coming up in this series, but it's a big one, and i'm still working on it!

“You’re out of your mind.”

Gabriel’s voice is a low snarl. Jack hasn’t heard him talk to a superior – a _“superior”_ – like this since the time someone had seriously suggested sending Reinhardt and Torbjorn together to scout _“because they’re wearing armor.”_ That, at least, had been so outlandish that it had been funny. This, though–- 

“Full assault is the only way,” Nikolaeva insists, slamming a hand down onto the table. “Tomorrow I send all RDF forces to attack the omnium. And if I do not have support of UN’s representatives–” 

“This is a suicide run,” Gabriel snaps. “Your casualties will be off the charts.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Nikolaeva says, and folds her arms. “0600.”

Jack resists the urge to share a glance with Ana and instead keeps his face schooled, shoulders back, supporting his superior by not giving a fucking inch.

“You are going to kill almost every soldier under your command,” Gabriel says, pronouncing each word slowly, as if he’s talking to a toddler. “And that _might_ give you a chance at wiping out the omnium. _Might._ If anyone’s even alive to deliver your payload.”

“I know the risks,” she replies, and a dark look crosses her face. “And so do my soldiers. If we must give our lives to protect our homes, then so be it.” Gabriel says nothing. Nikolaeva keeps staring him down. “Do I have your support, Agent Reyes? Or will the UN fail Russia?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack can see Gabriel staring back, lip curled, hands fisted tight at his sides, shoulders back, spine ramrod straight.

“Amari,” he finally barks, “get everyone together. I need to brief them on tomorrow’s suicide mission. Morrison, with me.”

And with one last smoldering glare at Nikolaeva – who’s wearing something that resembles a resigned grimace more than a victorious smirk – Gabriel turns on his heels and leaves the room.

Jack nods at Nikolaeva, then finally glances at Ana as they follow Gabriel. Her jaw is tight, nostrils flared, and she’s already on her comm. 

Once they’re all in the hallway, Gabriel sighs, pulls off his beanie, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Sorry for snapping at you,” he says to Ana. Ana waves a hand at him, still tapping out messages. “Get everyone in our quarters in 15 minutes, yeah?”

Ana looks up at him, then, and studies him carefully. The angry flush in his cheeks has started to fade but he’s still tense, frustrated. Gabriel doesn’t really have a temper, per se; he just has zero tolerance for bullshit, and this meeting had been nothing but pure, unadulterated bullshit. Jack knows these 15 minutes are going to be a cooldown.

“20 minutes,” she amends, and then glances at Jack.

“20 minutes,” Gabriel agrees, and then sighs again. Ana nods, satisfied, and then leaves down the hallway. 

“It’s enough time to get some air,” Jack says, and tips his head towards the other end of the hallway. “C’mon.”

It’s freezing outside. Quite literally. It’s been an unusually cold winter, and it feels positively brutal to Jack. Gabriel turns up his collar and before leaning on the thin railing that boxes in the small balcony, but neither of them is _really_ dressed for this. Jack doesn’t even have a hat on him, just a jacket, and he can feel the cold railing on his forearms even through the thick fabric when he leans against it next to Gabriel.

“What an idiot,” Gabriel finally says. His breath steams in the air, billowing white like smoke. And then he bows over, hangs his head, and something twists in Jack. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this.”

“We‘ll survive. We have to.” It comes out bitter. Gabriel presses their shoulders together. “We always do.”

“And if we don’t? If Liao doesn’t, if Ana doesn’t?” His voice drops low, head turning away. “If you don’t?”

“ _Gabe_.”

“Oh, come on, Jack. You were there yesterday. You’ve been reading the reports. You know the odds.”

“And I know you beat ‘em, every time.” Jack throws a glance at the closed door behind them and slides a hand over Gabriel’s, squeezing his palm. His fingers are icy cold. Jack is sure his aren’t any better. “She _is_ an idiot, though. And the UN comment was a low blow.”

Gabriel finally laughs at that, shoulders easing, and then he turns his hand over and laces their fingers together before leaning in to press his forehead against Jack’s. 

Jack can’t pinpoint it to any single moment, can’t point at a memory and say _this one, this is it_ ; he just knows that Gabriel is an inextricable part of his life, that he has been for years now. Half the time Jack isn’t even sure if the mind-boggling amount of affection he feels for Gabriel is romantic or not, if it’s just some kind of all-encompassing _feeling_ for this man, something else entirely. 

But it doesn’t really _matter_ , all things considered. The things that _do_ matter are this: Gabriel’s trust. Gabriel’s support. Offering unconditional trust and support in return. Gabriel’s ice-cold fingers between his own. Gabriel’s warm breath ghosting across Jack’s face. 

They’ve been _like this_ for years now, too, stealing quiet moments of not-quite-intimacy where they can get them, never able to cross the metaphorical Rubicon and make something out of this for fear of bureaucratic backlash. It’s okay, though, Jack thinks as Gabriel sweeps a cold thumb across his cheek. They make do.

Gabriel sighs.

“This is bad, Jack,” he murmurs. “It’s really bad.”

“I know.”

“Nikolaeva’s a great tactician, but this is rash. It's _dumb_.”

“She’s desperate,” Jack says quietly. “Wouldn't you be? Haven't you been?”

Gabriel exhales again and turns away, looking out over the balcony again. There's dark, oily smoke staining the skyline, and every night so far, it’s turned the sunset a deep, bloody red, like LA smog. The Russian soldiers say it's a permanent fixture, ever-present fighting sparking ever-present fires around the omnium and the old factories that have been sacrificed to the war, immolated in the name of their god programs.

“I don't know,” Gabriel finally says. “I've got something that might work, even though Torb is going to hate it. Jack–” He turns back to look at him, brows slightly furrowed, eyes steady. “There is a very real chance we won't survive this.”

“I know,” Jack says again, and his voice is nearly a whisper this time. 

The air is still and cold and it feels like everything is holding its breath, unnaturally still. 

Jack knows there’s no sense in having an “if we don’t survive this” conversation. There’s really, truly nothing to talk about that they haven’t said already or that they don’t already know, and god knows their lives are dangerous enough that they’d be doing this at least once a week if they _really_ counted every shitty “last night on earth” scenario they’ve been in as their last. Gabriel straightens up slowly, hand still linked firmly with Jack’s against the railing and with the look on his face Jack thinks, for one wild second, that Gabriel is going to start that conversation.

And Jack thinks, then, that maybe it wouldn’t be a bad conversation to have. That maybe now _is_ the time to do this. That maybe they _have_ avoided this for too long.

But then Gabriel exhales and scrubs his free hand down his face and Jack can see the commander inching back into him, eyes distant again, cogs turning. 

“C’mon,” Gabriel finally says, and tilts his head towards the door back inside. “The faster we get this briefing over with, the faster we can all pretend to go to sleep.”


	2. ii. this is not the beginning

"You know I love you, Gabe."

It's hardly the first time Jack's said it and Gabriel knows it won't be the last, but god _damn_ , the Novosibirsk omnium looming on the horizon makes it–- _god_.

"Jack–"

" _Gabe_."

"Don't do this right now."

"Then when?” Jack snorts quietly. “After we’re both dead?"

"So what," Gabriel hisses, "you want to– to _do this_ – and then go back to acting like everything is normal?"

"Gabriel, you know what our chances are tomorrow," Jack says, voice quiet. He doesn't meet Gabriel's eyes and instead shifts his weight so that he’s propped up over Gabriel on his forearm.

"I know." Gabriel closes his eyes, takes a long breath through his nose. "I know. It's just– you know what would happen."

He’s actually given this quite the extensive amount of thought. They'd be kicked from the strike team, bare minimum, if word got out. Probably court-martialed. Dishonorable discharge for fraternization. Kept under lock and key like the lab rats they were meant to be. The list goes on. Rumors and suspicion are one thing – shit happens in the trenches, soldiers gossip, and all that – but taking this any further is a risk neither of them can afford to take.

"Yeah, I know.” Jack leans down to press his forehead against Gabriel’s. “I can't say I care right now."

"I love you, Jack, that's why _I_ care right now." He strokes the backs of his fingers down Jack's face; Jack turns his head and presses a kiss to his knuckles. "Please, let's just go to sleep. _Please_."

“God, this is shit,” Jack whispers, and doesn’t budge.

It pulls a laugh out of Gabriel, quiet and genuine.

“Jack, that’s the understatement of the century.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack says, laughing in return. “It’s still shit, though.” 

“Yeah, it’s still shit.”

Gabriel traces the laughter lines in Jack’s face and commits them to memory before they can fade away.

Truly, what a shitty situation. He and Jack have been close for– well, for too long. Too close, for too long, with too many near misses of things coming to a head. Jack knows how Gabriel feels about him. Gabriel knows how Jack feels about him. There’s a long list of logical and acceptable reasons why they haven’t done anything about it.

“Jack.”

“You can keep saying my name.” Jack’s eyes are closed and his voice is muffled, turned into Gabriel’s palm.

“C’mon.”

“Well, that’s not my name.”

“ _Jack_.” 

Gabriel means for it to be exasperated but it comes out quiet instead, desperate, and Jack’s thumb is slowly tracing along his cheek, his beard, this upper lip, his lower lip, eyes half-lidded– 

"Jack, _please_ ," Gabriel whispers, voice breaking. He doesn't even know what he's asking Jack for but he keeps begging anyways, whispering _please_ over and over and the look on Jack’s face is somewhere between completely heartbroken and gloriously _alive_. Gabriel's hands are framing Jack’s face and his thumb is resting against the corner of Jack’s mouth and he can feel Jack tense up and inhale and then Jack is kissing him, and Gabriel knows immediately that this moment will haunt them for the rest of their lives.

He knows, but he kisses back anyways, and Jack chooses to ignore the broken noise Gabriel makes as he throws an arm up over Jack’s shoulders, buries a hand in his hair, pulls them closer.

Jack presses a line of chaste kisses down Gabriel’s jaw, his neck, and Gabriel buries his face in Jack’s shoulder in return, and he feels the _sorry, sorry, sorry_ behind each kiss like knives between his ribs.

 

 

Neither of them are asleep when Jack’s alarm goes off two hours later. Jack lethargically slides his way out of Gabriel’s hold and sits up, swings his legs over the edge of the bed one by one, drops his head into his hands. Gabriel sits up behind him and slides a hand onto his knee and hopes to god that this is still okay, that they’re still _normal_ , but then Jack’s hand covers his and squeezes. 

Gabriel shuffles forward until they’re sitting side by side, pressed together in a long line, and they breathe together for a minute, two, before Jack finally sighs and turns towards Gabriel, reaches out to gently turn Gabriel by the chin, and for one wild moment Gabriel thinks that Jack is going to kiss him again, _hopes_ that Jack is going to kiss him again, but Jack just presses his forehead against Gabriel’s and squeezes his eyes shut. Gabriel turns his hand over and rubs his thumb over Jack’s knuckles.

Gabriel understands. When Jack stands up, they both know it’s done, buried under red tape, laid to rest in a sarcophagus carved out of bureaucracy.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, only that Jack takes his shower bag and heads into the hallway at some point, and at some point after that, Ana’s sleep-rumpled shirt comes into view.

“Gabriel,” she says quietly, and she reaches out to tilt his chin up once it’s clear he won’t lift his head on his own. He meets her eyes reluctantly. He knows what she’ll see. What she’s seen. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

She looks over to the doorway, and Gabriel slowly follows her gaze to see Jack there, hair wet, shoulders slumped, dark circles aging him at least twenty years. Gabriel can’t look away, doesn’t even bother trying to, and Jack walks up, drops his bag next to their bed, and wraps himself around Ana, not for a second breaking eye contact with Gabriel. 

Ana disentangles herself only enough to pull at Gabriel’s wrist so he takes the excuse for what it is and he levers an arm under Jack’s as he stands, pulls Ana in towards them. Jack buries his face in Gabriel’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Ana whispers again, voice muffled between them.

“We’ll survive,” Gabriel says dully. “We have to. We always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy absolute fuck, I did not mean to go six-ish months without posting the second chapter. tl;dr, the real-world shitshow along with some personal stuff made the prospect of editing something angsty basically impossible, even though like... I wrote this? I know it ends happy in the long run? And Yet.
> 
> For those looking for said happy ending, [the hardest part of ending](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11116899) is where you will find it. (thumbs up emoji)

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd, again -- i might pick at this sporadically and spruce it up. i guess this is kinda my new way to roll now, since i feel bad badgering people into looking over something i've been staring at for days. chapter/work titles will be explained in a big tl;dr i have saved for the big work in this series.


End file.
